


How Did You Think This Was Going To End?

by 48eyesand32teeth1sharptongue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2019 reuploads, Don't copy to another site, Episode: s15e09 The Trap, Fix-It, Gen, Trans Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:26:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24834562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/48eyesand32teeth1sharptongue/pseuds/48eyesand32teeth1sharptongue
Summary: part of the reuploads
Relationships: Chuck Shurley & Sam Winchester
Kudos: 19





	How Did You Think This Was Going To End?

**Author's Note:**

> part of the reuploads

"Okay, so that way? Hm? You being monsters? You being killed off by your friends-" Chuck asks, and doubles down at Sam's expression, "You really like that ending better?"

Sam is quiet for a moment.

But he is not idle.

No. He recalls the light leaving Jack's eyes, and the guilt and pain of knowing that he'd been wrong and failed to tell him that-

And then he thinks back, to every vision that ever made him bleed and list over, and to ancient history that did not feel so ancient, not with Lilith's fresh death on a plate bringing it all back to the beginning.

And he hears Azazel's old, buried murmurs in his ear, the threat of yellow eyes staring back at him in a mirror with Meg's smoky laughter stuffy in his throat-

And like it never left, Sam feels every carding digit of the phantom hands of an angel gliding like sandpaper over his soul, and the celestial cacophony he could not stomach, whispering, _we could have had everything, why'd you have to go and ruin it_ -

And when he feels the older scar-tissue pains of his own bruised face and broken skin of knuckles- all dominoes from words his brother couldn't take back, from violence he couldn't take back either, unable to hold his own hands steady when they clutched Dean's neck and the need for the blood burned hot and ugly within him-

Thinks of the words, _monster_ , and _it's who you are_ , and _don't you come back,_ and _'freak'-_

Tastes blood as he thinks, _I'm unclean. I've always been. It'll never wash away-_

Sam recalls pressing the muzzle of a shotgun, the barrel held pressed up against his own chest between his white, straining fingers, not letting Bobby pull it away as he begged that if he could not be free then he better pull the damn trigger.

Sam stares God down, tips his head back, and bares his teeth, old, long-lost laughter bubbling up from his chest until it peals off and he hisses words through gritted teeth-

"You act like I didn't expect that from the moment you made me. Get a clue. Zachariah pulled the same stunt years ago, and it didn't work then, and it won't work now. And Hell, Chuck- you can't complain. This way, you get what you wanted, even if you don't get to watch your own children rip each other to pieces. Don't get greedy. You got your blood sacrifice already. And just because you want to jump ship, well... You don't get to back out now."

Sam never forgot, after all, what it felt like to have his body not feel like it's own, even when he was the only one left in it, staring at the wreckage and trying to build a lifeboat out of it, anyway.

And then he adds, lip curling, "Face it. You made this Hell all on your own. Only now you've got to live with it like the rest of us. There's no way out, for you or me. And there never was, really. Welcome to the ride. It never ends, and no one leaves. And that's your life now, forever."

In some ways, it feels like reclamation, taking his favorite son's words and spitting them back at the one who set the chessboard in the first place.


End file.
